The Last Passover

We were so blind that night,

Our eyes tight closed against truths too big to bear.

We saw, and we did not see,

We knew and remained ignorant

We were like men who stared at the letters

But could not read the words.

Now, with our world reborn,

Now that we finally truly begin to understand

(A beginning that will continue into all eternity,

For who can compass the infinite?),

Now, when the pattern is complete and its glory is revealed,

Now we know it could be no other way.

It had to be the Passover.

It had to be the Passover.

He was the new Moses, the better-than-Moses,

Who would lead his people to freedom through darkness and terror,

Who would take us out of slavery into the fullness of the promises,

Who would show us the way to our true home.

And He was the paschal lamb

The one whose blood was spilled so that,

Though we should feel the bitter cold that flows from the wings of the Angel of Death,

Yet it would not touch us

And we need no longer be afraid.

And He was the unleavened bread in whom no hint of corruption lived,

And the bitter herbs became his crown of thorns.

It had to be the Passover.

Yet we were so blind.

We did not see how his every word, every gesture,

Was loaded with layers of meaning.

We did not see the sorrow and agony that lay beneath his gravity.

Nothing made sense to us then.

He took the bread and broke it.

“This is my body,” He said.

These were words that could tear the universe apart

And we simply took and ate.

We did not know that his body would be broken

So that we could be made one;

One with each other,

One with God Himself,

One with his purpose and his power.

(But, Oh, the horror of that breaking!)

And then He took the cup,

That solemn cup

Of ordinary wine,

“This is my blood of the New Covenant,

Poured out for many

For forgiveness of sins.”

We had no idea.

We were too afraid to ask.

But now we rejoice as the forgiven.

Every year we had spoken the words

Eaten the food

Remembered and remembered,

Drunk the wine

Remembered,

And never seen

It all was pointing forwards and not back:

Not to Moses but to Christ.

He made the blind to see.